All Things Begin
by Hannah Lynn McDonald
Summary: Where Sherlock Holmes got his penchant for beating corpses. Arthur Conan Doyle's inspiration for Holmes. (could never think of a title for this piece...)


_c. May 1881_

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" _Why_ do you want a body?"

He wiped the end of the hatpin off and deftly folded the handkerchief back into his pocket. The hatpin was laid aside, and he picked up a needle, staring past the tip of his finger to the man standing opposite him beside the lab's table. Jabbing the needle in his finger, he quickly squeezed the blood out into the piquette until it thinned and ceased to run easily. The needle was dropped into a vase of water, and the finger was carelessly covered with a plaster as he looked over the table for something. Seeing a vial lying beneath some old paper, his eyes lit up and he snatched it out into the open. "C'est voila, mon ami!"

He sighed and dropped his gaze to the slightly cloudy liquid the other swirled within the vial he held up. "Pond water?"

He let the hand holding the vial drop down, picking up a stirring rod. "Certainly not, Dr. Doyle – I've more than enough of that in the country." He frowned slightly. "For whatever reason would I bottle the substance?"

"You are an eccentric man, Vernet – I hardly presume to know what you are doing now."

"Hm?" He held the mixture up to the light, and then stirred it again. "I am hardly attempting anything complicated – merely determining some chemical test by which the stains of blood may be distinguished from others."

"Whatever would be the use of that?"

He glanced towards the other man once more. "Imagine the innocence of the accused hangs upon determining whether the stains upon that person's clothes were merely fruit, or dye, or some other such stain – anything but blood." He stirred the mixture once more, and then dropped it with a sigh to the table. "But it seems I am no closer now than I have been before – only having been made aware of one method by which the innocence or culpability of the accused can _not_ be tested."

"Then you plan to be a detective?"

He stared down at the disorder on the table, and then slowly began to set it to rights. "Hardly."

"Medicine, perhaps?"

"Dull – and I hardly think any would recommend me for my bedside manner."

"Astronomy? Biology? Chemistry, even?"

"Arthur. Must I settle down to one thing?"

"Most men do."

"I am hardly 'most men'." He glanced up with a slightly smile. "What ordinary man would request access to a cadaver?"

He grimaced. "Quite right..."

"I hardly mean to defile it, Dr. Doyle – I only need to test something."

"Can you not merely read of another's findings? What would you possibly want with a dead body that has not been done before?"

"Quite a lot, I am sure. But this matter only refers to the matter of posthumous bruising."

"...posthumous bruising?"

"Yes. The ability of the body to bruise even after the heart has ceased to pump blood through its veins and arteries?"

"Yes, Vernet – I remain well-acquainted with the matter of bruising."

"But not of its posthumous natures. Prithee, I only ask for one."

"An experiment without a control group? You surprise me."

"I admit I may need access to at least one other..."

"That seems more likely." He closed his eyes for a moment, and then straightened. "You really should settle down, Mr. Vernet – find another to share your lodgings, at the least.

"I? Find another to share lodgings with myself?" A bitter amusement flashed through his eyes, although his face remained straight. "I am hardly one of predictable habits, I am prone to unconventional experiments on all within my reach, I am hardly given to courtesy or companionship while in private, I am given to periods of sulkyness, and I play the violin. Who would have me within their rooms?" He chuckled humourlessly. "No sane man, I am certain of that."

He tilted his head to the side, watching the younger man. "You cannot always be right, Vernet."

He looked up again, sharply. "Can't I?" He looked away, and his demeanor softened. "But you are right, of course. Perhaps one day, I shall be wrong again..."

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 _AN: Brought on when I realised that my version of Adam, and Henry are VERY much like Sherlock and Watson respectively. I couldn't write a character study of this because it just didn't work – however, since I've little history for the Victorian era, I took advantage of the opportunity and wrote a sort of crossover. There is one planned for Henry – and now, they won't officially meet. This is the INSPIRATION for doyle's detective. Adam's name here is John Vernet, and Arthur Doyle – the man he is speaking with – is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, of course._ _11, February, 2016_


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